


Off You Go

by AudreyV



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dubcon Kissing, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Future Fic, Self-cest, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, remarkably canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 21:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: A terminal diagnosis is as good a reason as any to take a time suit for a joy ride.





	Off You Go

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying for an angst-fest but in the end this is less sad and more hopeful and also a little weird in places.

Michael would have found it ironic, had Georgiou bothered to tell her the diagnosis. A prion disease, dormant for decades, the unfortunate consequence of dining on Kelpians for the thirty-six years she sat on the throne. Easily corrected in her universe, but unknown and unquestionably fatal in the one Michael wrenched her into.

Georgiou had always imagined she'd die violently, at the end of a worthy opponent’s skilled blade. It would have been an ending that suited her station. Withering away in a medbay while she slowly lost her mind was an insult.

“You look preoccupied,” Michael said. Georgiou huffed and sipped her drink.

“I'm bored. Aren't you bored?”

“Honestly? I'm enjoying the quiet.” Michael relaxed back in her seat and gazed out at the stars. “Sometimes life is about staying in dock for a few days while they recharge the dilithium crystals. It can't always be about saving the universe and cheating death.”

Georgiou chuckled. She stared at Michael’s face, determined to commit it to memory. She catalogued the tiny laugh lines around Michael’s eyes, and the grey streaked curls that had been dark brown when they met.

“What are you looking at?” Michael asked with a fond, gentle smile. Georgiou reached across the small table and squeezed her hand.

“You. Just thinking how kind the years have been to you.”

“Says the woman who’s barely aged a day in nineteen years.”

“I have my secrets. Maybe I’ll tell you someday,” Georgiou said softly. “Can you stay the night?”

If Michael thought the question was strange, she didn't give any indication. Instead she just considered, then nodded.

“I need to check in on the repairs in the morning,” she said. “But yes. I have time.”

Time. Georgiou hated the concept.

Georgiou was many things, but selfless was not one of them. Yet in the moment before she activated the time suit, her heart was in the purest place it had ever been, or would ever be. (Selfish, too, but she knew sometimes purity and selfishness could align.)

It had taken her a week to enact her plan. A visit to a Bajoran plastic surgeon, well-known for her ability to shave off decades. A large payment to a black market engineer. And a visit to Boreth to procure the last piece she needed.

When she touched the crystal, she saw exactly how it would happen. Michael’s face was almost enough to convince her to abandon her mission, but Georgiou told herself in the end this would get them all what they wanted. Or, at least, what they deserved.

She plugged the coordinates and stardate into the timesuit. She closed her eyes and pictured the bridge of the Klingon ship of the dead, and Michael, her hair straight and dark, her face unlined and twisted in grief.

Surely a little pain would be worth it in the long run. Georgiou pressed the button.

It hurt, more than she'd expected. As time and space flexed and poured toward her, her heart felt like it might explode. Sweat poured off her body, soaking the protective layer she wore. Her vision went dark and then blinding white.

And then it was over. She was in a dark room, alone. Georgiou slammed the release lever of the suit and fell forward onto the carpeted floor. (Like Gabrielle, when they snared her. Georgiou flinched when her mind flashed to Michael, skin peeling, newly back from the dead.)

“Who the hell are you?” A voice brought Georgiou back to the present (or the past, as the case was.) She almost laughed when she heard a phaser powering up. She looked up into startled eyes.

“Computer, lock the doors and disable communication from this room. Authorization Georgiou Alpha Kappa.”

“Confirmed,” the computer chirped.

Georgiou launched herself at the woman with the phaser. Age and the prion disease were taking their toll on Georgiou's body, but she still easily disarmed the woman, tossing the phaser away before pressing her opponent against the wall.

“I'm the one who’s here to save your life, Philippa,” Georgiou growled. Her counterpart blinked in surprise.

“Who are you?”

“I'm you, in a way. But let’s be clear. Your job isn't to understand. Your job is to do what I say.” Georgiou smirked as she leaned forward, putting pressure on her arm where it pressed against Philippa’s collarbone. “Now take off your clothes.”

“No.”

“You're as stubborn as I am.” Georgiou grinned. She stroked Philippa’s cheek and let her fingers trail down to her doppleganger’s lower lip. “If only I had more time, we could have so much fun. But sadly that can't happen. So we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Georgiou saw Philippa’s jaw twitch and she shrugged.

“The hard way it is,” she hissed, pressing a hypospray against Philippa’s neck. Philippa crumpled forward, instantly unconscious. Georgiou laid her out on the floor of her quarters and tugged her boots off.

When Philippa was undressed, Georgiou peeled off her protective layer and maneuvered it on to the unconscious woman, then she redressed in Philippa’s battle suit. She pulled her hair up and admired herself in the mirror.

The surgeon’s skills were impeccable. She almost couldn't tell her own face from that of the woman on the floor. In the heat of the moment, she'd easily fool them all.

Philippa began to stir. Georgiou went to her and helped her to her feet. Philippa blinked at her, still groggy, as Georgiou tucked a memory chip into the top of Philippa’s underlayer.

“That's for Michael. She’ll be confused. It's your job to look after her,” Georgiou said in a low, soothing voice. “Do you understand?”

“I've always looked after Michael,” Philippa slurred. She lolled to one side and Georgiou steadied her.

“She’ll look different the next time you see her,” Georgiou continued. “If you ever worried you were too old for her— let's just say I've solved that problem too. You're welcome.”

Georgiou pushed Philippa back toward the time suit. The suit snapped together around her slight form, the display booting up, red and glowing as Philippa blinked, trying to shake off the sedative.

Georgiou pulled up the time and space coordinates she'd pre-programmed into the suit. On a whim, she deactivated the visor of the suit, then leaned in and brushed her lips against Philippa’s. A moment later Philippa’s hand was on her face, holding her there as the kiss deepened.

When Georgiou pulled away, they were both breathless.

“That must have been confusing for you,” Georgiou purred. She caressed Philippa’s face, pleased when Philippa whimpered. “That particular sedative tends to make people… pliable. It's very useful, and quite immoral. I should be sorry, I suppose, but I can't be expected to go to the gallows without taking advantage of such a delicious opportunity. Don't worry. There's not enough time for all the things I'd love to do to you.”

Georgiou stepped back. She looked into her own eyes, the same but so much softer. She reactivated the visor and smiled.

“Off you go,” Georgiou said, pressing the activate button of the suit. The room flooded with light and then she was alone.

Georgiou walked purposefully to the transporter room. When the doors whooshed open, she saw Michael there, waiting for her, looking just as she had in the time crystal’s vision.

“Let’s go get our prisoner,” Georgiou said.

Michael woke up to a bright flash of light. She sat up, shielding her eyes with her arm as she tried to get her bearings. She saw a humanoid form a few feet away, familiar red wings folding in with a click-clack sound.

The suit whirred as it powered down, discharging its occupant unceremoniously to the floor. Michael lept out of bed. She ran over to the prone form, rolling the body onto its back as she checked for signs of life.

“Michael?”

Michael found herself staring down at a bleary-eyed, much younger Philippa Georgiou.

“Emergency transport, two to sickbay,” Michael called out, clutching Georgiou’s hand as they both disappeared in a shimmer of light.

“I'm confused,” the station’s doctor said in a low voice. “That is definitely Philippa Georgiou.”

“I know that's Philippa Georgiou. I just need to know why she'd alter her appearance to look younger and then take a time suit for a joy ride.” Michael glared over at the bio bed where Georgiou lay unconscious.

“You don't understand,” Dr. Viers said. “She hasn't just altered her appearance. That Georgiou is 53 years old, inside and out.”

Michael froze. She looked back at the patient, then to the doctor.

“I need you to scan her for a quantum variance.”


End file.
